


you're moments ago

by haipollai



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is all long limbs and big blue eyes. The clothes that used to fit snuggly hang off of his frame now, Sharon ended up bringing a handful of her own clothes for Steve to wear so he didn't look quite so pathetic. He still looks pretty awful, like a kicked puppy. He has a black eye that should be healed by now and his knuckles are all scraped up but his hands are still clenched in fists just in case he has to throw another punch or two. Sam knows he managed to catch one of the doctors with an elbow, bloodying his nose.</p>
<p>Sam gets the feeling Steve wouldn't hesitate fighting any of them if he doesn't like their answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're moments ago

Steve Rogers is all long limbs and big blue eyes. The clothes that used to fit snuggly hang off of his frame now, Sharon ended up bringing a handful of her own clothes for Steve to wear so he didn't look quite so pathetic. He still looks pretty awful, like a kicked puppy. He has a black eye that should be healed by now and his knuckles are all scraped up but his hands are still clenched in fists just in case he has to throw another punch or two. Sam knows he managed to catch one of the doctors with an elbow, bloodying his nose.

They claimed they've finished their tests but Sam suspects they don't want to be in the room with him, leaving Sam and Sharon to mediate and explain what happened. No one wants to be stuck upsetting those big blue eyes. Sam gets the feeling Steve wouldn't hesitate fighting any of them if he doesn't like their answers.

"Someone should probably get a hold of Barnes," Sharon says, running a critical eye over Steve. "He's the only one with experience with Steve."

Steve's head shoots up from where he's been very pointedly staring at his feet to ignore them. "You know Bucky? Buck's here?" He sounds so lost and desperate, Sam hates himself for the pang of jealousy.

"Well, he's somewhere," Sharon answers. "Last I heard he'd hooked up with Agent Drew to rustle up some Skrulls hiding in Nepal."

"Skrulls?" Steve somehow manages to look more confused, and somewhere underneath it's starting to turn to anger. With the wrong word it's all going to ignite. 

"Fuck." Sharon looks pleadingly at Sam. "I'm going to go pull some strings, get Bucky's ass back here." She disappears before he can argue her over it and Sam is left to stare down Steve.

"You can't just dump a guy in a cell, this ain't Tammany Hall." He seems braver without Sharon in the room, even looks all ready to give a speech, catching Sam off guard. "I got rights. I-"

"It's not a cell," Sam interrupts, keeping his voice calm. All his work with veterans hasn't prepared him for one scrawny teenager. "It's a hospital." Steve gives the room an incredulous look but then seems to stop and look again. He tries to keep his face blank but it pulls at his eyes.

"The doc meant it, didn't he? This is the future?"

Sam smiles, that went easier than he'd hoped. Apparently someone hadn't been able to hold their tongue but it might pay off, Sam wouldn't have to break it to him now. "That's right. Though you've kind of been living here for awhile."

Steve smiles back, slow and mischievous. Sam recognizes the Steve he's used to in that smile. "Can I see it?"

-

 

Steve barely comes up to Sam's shoulder and even in clothes that fit him, he somehow looks overwhelmed. Maybe that's the way he stares at everything. The inhaler a doctor gets for him makes him laugh in surprise. "This thing controls my asthma?" He twists it around between his fingers over and over, taking it apart and putting the medicine back in.

"You've never-" Sam cuts off the doctor with a hard look and he quickly retreats.

"Guess you don't have asthma cigarettes anymore," Steve says, barely noticing the doctor, too fascinated with the inhaler.

"You smoked cigarettes for asthma?" If he didn't know better he'd be sure Steve was punking him but Steve just shrugs.

"Same idea right? Inhaling something to help your throat open up." He slips it into a pocket though his hand hovers close, as if not quite believing it's real. "More expensive then regular cigarettes though so usually stuck with those." Sam is staring now, he doesn't even realize it until Steve ducks his head and blushes. "What? It's not like I'm some ten year old with a pack."

"No I- You don't smoke." 

Steve is mirroring his own confused look back at him. "Of course I do." His nose crinkles up. "Why would I bother stopping? Everyone'd think I'd turned rat." He fidgets with the inhaler again. "Can I get out of here now?"

"Yea," he sighs and rests his hand on Steve's shoulder, gently pushing him to his feet. "Let's get out of here." He keeps his hand on Steve's shoulder, feeling like he has to protect him and Steve leans into it. No one stops them on the way out and Sam is ready to usher them into a cab to get them home but Steve stops and stares and Sam realizes how big everything must be now. "I thought we'd have flying cars by now."

He bites back his laugh, disappointment was the last thing he expected but then again maybe he shouldn't have. Steve's optimism hasn't been entirely tempered yet. "Your dime store novels lied to you." Sam gets him walking again, moving towards the subway. "Lot we don't have."

"Colonies on Mars?" Steve asks, trying to sound light and teasing; Sam thinks he's just trying not to act overwhelmed.

"Nope."

"The moon?"

"Sorry." He stares up at the buildings as they walk past. "No polio? You were pretty pleased with that before. Except in some other countries."

Steve laughs though it fades into a weak cough. "The sisters always sigh I'm probably going to get it."

"I can assure you, you don't." It sounds weak to his own ears. A pathetic assurance that probably doesn't mean much to a kid so completely out of his own comfort zone. _Congrats you don't become crippled but you've lost almost eighty years of your life as well as a miracle cure to everything wrong with you._

Sam remembers belatedly that the Captain America exhibit from the Smithsonian is on tour and there are big signs everywhere advertising for it. They almost walk past one at first until Steve catches the picture of himself in uniform from before the serum. Steve stumbles over his feet, and if he was any heavier he'd have taken them both down but Sam catches him easily.

"It's a long story," he says softly.

"I become a hero?" Steve asks incredulously.

"Yea, you save the day. A few times."

Steve stares at the image for a minute longer before turning sharply on his heel and walking towards the train. Sam follows, close enough they're almost touching but not quite. He needs Steve to know he's there for him. But Steve doesn't look at him for the rest of the trip home, just stares at his feet lost in thought. Usually Sam knows what to say to Steve, he always has from that first day in D.C. but here he's tongue tied. This isn't the trauma he's used to dealing with, doesn't know how to help a kid deal with what's been done to Steve.

Sam gets his attention at their stop, gently tugging on his elbow so he knows to follow.

"We're in Midtown." Steve gives him a hard look, obviously adjusting his initial judgment of Sam. "You have a place in Midtown?"

Sam grins. "Nope. You do."

"Fuck you no."

For a second he has to stop himself from kissing him, the expression on Steve's face is so identical to the Steve that Sam knows. This isn't him, this is fifteen year old Steve with asthma and allergies and who knows what ailments. "I'll let it pass cause you don't know me, but I'd never lie to you."

To Sam's surprise, Steve blushes and bumps his elbow against Sam's. "Ok, ok, assuming you're telling the truth, where is this fabled castle?"

-

Bucky starts laughing as soon as he walks in. Steve gapes, looking back and forth between Bucky and Sam as if Sam is the one with any answers. It's endearing (Sam is finding too much of Steve like this to be endearing) but he can only shrug. He's never even heard Bucky laugh so openly, he didn't know the guy could do it. Steve gets fed up first and throws a phone at him which Bucky manfully ducks. At least he stops laughing and drops himself down onto the couch beside Bucky. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just weird seeing you like this."

Steve draws his legs up to his chest and grips them tightly. "Because I'm small." He looks at Bucky through his bangs. "You look good."

Bucky presses something on his left wrist and the image of flesh disappears. He wiggles his fingers at Steve. "It's complicated." Steve doesn't even seem to hear him, moving closer to touch his own hand to the metal. "Lots happened since you were fifteen, Rogers. There's a war, takes us both out."

"But you're here now."

"As I said, complicated," Bucky says apologetically. Steve withdraws, pulling back into himself again. He buries his head in his hands and both Sam and Bucky hear his breathing hitch. Carefully, Sam reaches out and touches his shoulder, mirroring Bucky on Steve's other side. Steve's breath starts to come faster and shallower and Sam's first thought is _asthma_.

"Inhaler?" He asks Bucky, wondering if he's going to end up sitting here and watching Steve Rogers die.

But Bucky shakes his head. "Panic attack. Hey, Steve come on," Bucky murmurs softly, dipping his head in close. "Just breathe ok? Focus on that. Gonna get worse if you don't, you know that. Remember when we snuck into that bar? The one the cops raided? You didn't die in that back alley so you're not gonna here." His voice stays calm and even, a soothing beat for Steve to focus on.

Sam watches, his hand still on Steve's back, but he's impressed by Bucky. He's never seen this side of him, the one that steps up and takes care of Steve instead of the other way around. It must be taking a lot to dredge up those memories and keep himself calm.

Finally Steve's breathing starts to even out and Bucky's soft words stop.

"Sorry," Steve mumbles. "Sorry I-"

"Only surprised it didn't happen sooner," Bucky says.

"I'm not weak," Steve retorts, slumping back against the couch and letting his eyes close.

"Ok sure, how'd your last fight end up?"

Steve smacks Bucky's leg lightly. "The last fight. Think you got your nose broken." Their easy teasing feels intimate and familiar, going through memories that Sam has no connection to. So he stands intending to get away, letting them have this moment. They haven't had a chance to connect without the war and Hydra tainting everything, they deserve this.

He still carefully avoids Bucky's eyes and tells himself it's their moment.

"Sam?"

He hesitates at Steve's voice, at the concern he manages to impress into one syllable. Sam makes himself smile for him though it feels fake and tight. "Gonna order in some dinner."

"Get Indian," Bucky suggests. "Or that Ethiopian place. Something he hasn't had."

Steve looks back and forth between them. "You can just do that? Any kind of food?"

Sam grins. "Welcome to the future." He can't resist ruffling Steve's hair as he goes by. 

-

Sam almost chokes when he finds Steve sprawled on his bed in nothing but boxers. All his sharp lines stand out in sharp relief against the dark blue of Sam's sheets. His throat goes dry just looking at him. Steve's cheeks are tinged pink and Sam can see he's all wiry muscle despite his own body's weaknesses, he's had to work to stay alive.

"Sam?"

He doesn't realize how long he's been standing there and staring until Steve pushes himself up onto his hands. It shakes Sam back to reality and that fifteen year old Steve Rogers is mostly naked in his bed. "I'm going to hell," he groans and drops down heavily onto the floor. "My nan is up there tsking at me and making deals with the Devil to make sure I burn."

Steve slides off the bed, sitting on the floor and leaning back against it. "Cause you looked? I've seen you looking-"

"Doesn't make it right." Sam moves around so he's sitting next to Steve, he's not sure if he should touch but Steve looks so forlorn that Sam can't resist pulling him close, letting Steve lean against him. "You and me, we're a thing. A really good thing. God knows it's tempting to sleep with you but you don't know me."

"I trust you. Only other person I've got is Bucky and he's not even the Bucky I know." His voice cracks, reminding Sam how young he is right now and how lost.

"Yea he is, he's been to hell and back since what you remember, but he's the Bucky you know." He pushes himself back up to his feet and holds out a hand to help Steve up. "Just you and Bucky? No girls?"

Steve's blush brightens and he quickly shakes his head. "Not good at talking to women."

"So instead you sprawl over men's beds and let them do the talking." Sam sets his hands on Steve's shoulders and pushes him towards the door.

"Usually there's no bed to sprawl on. Anyway, almost worked," Steve shoots back teasingly, twisting around and darting out of reach. "I'm uh I'm going to get dressed."

"Go, do that." He goes back to his bed and flops back onto it. He can still smell Steve there. It suddenly hurts more than he expects, he needs his Steve back. There's been no explanations, no answers. Just a skinny kid instead of his partner. Sam's tried not to think about what if they never figure out how to return Steve to normal, this isn't time travel, the Steve he knows isn't wandering around in 1933. The modern Steve could simply be gone, wiped out by whatever deaged him.

"Sam?" Steve's voice sounds so small and sad that Sam immediately sits up. He's fully dressed now, almost overdressed, hidden inside a sweatshirt that's too big on him, emblazoned on the chest is the logo for the L.A. Dodgers. Sam had bought it for Steve as a joke.

"Hey I-"

"I'm sorry. That I'm not him," he says in a rush, words tumbling over each other. "Or me. You're a good man and I guess I'm just grateful that you think I'm or he is good enough to love." His fingers twist around each other and Sam can hear his knuckles crack in the silence.

"You think you wouldn't become someone good enough to love?" He thinks about telling Steve to sit with him, but the bed doesn't seem the right place for this conversation. Steve hides as if he doesn't have much else to say anyway. "Come on, I need some fresh air I think." It's still easy as he walks past Steve to drape his arm over his shoulders, to steer him away and out the door. 

"I should say thank you."

"For what?"

"You really could have dumped me off on Bucky, or left me with the doctors. You didn't have to take me in."

"You kidding? If I left you with the doctors, I'd never hear the end of it." His arm tightens around Steve wishing it could be that easy to protect him. All he has to do is just hold on tight. A bus with an ad for the exhibit goes by, as if to remind Sam it can never be that easy. 

"Must be strange being an icon like that," Steve says softly, leaning more into Sam. Away from the image of himself.

"Don't know. It's more your thing then mine, I'm just along to catch your ass."

"Sure it's more than that. Bucky said you and me are pretty damn close." He's looking up at Sam with those big blue eyes, trying to wheedle an answer out of him.

"That why you thought it was ok to set up camp in my bed?" Sam's tone comes out more accusing then he planned on. Maybe taking Steve with him wasn't such a good idea, maybe he needs to find someone else to keep an eye on him until this passes. Except he could never trust anyone else except Sharon and Bucky and he wouldn't ask them to put their lives on hold. 

Steve blushes. "Partly," he admits. "Meant it though, you're a good guy. Don't know many of those."

Sam looks down at him, wondering what Steve's not saying, how many men does he know. But it's not his place and all he can do is keep Steve safe, that has to come first. "You've got Bucky."

"Maybe I want more than Bucky," Steve murmurs and Sam pretends not to hear. He's only a boy, Sam needs to keep space, to help Steve adjust and deal with this new world. "We can be friends though, right?" He says louder, looking up at Sam. He knows enough about Steve's past to know Steve never had much of anyone.

"Yea, definitely friends." He tries not to think about how much he misses the Steve he used to know. This guy, little and scrawny, has the start of him but it's not the same.

-

Bucky takes up a lot of space on the balcony, sprawled over one chair, with his feet propped up on another. His eyes are closed against the summer sun. Just sitting there and waiting for Sam to bring out their beer. "I should dump this on you," Sam grumbles.

"I have been up to my knees in mud for the past three days. I'll get the beer the next time." He sits up to take the glass that Sam offers. For awhile neither speaks, they just sit there in silence. "How is he?"

"Doing ok. He likes the future."

Bucky smiles softly and nods. "He would. Sorry about uh not being here." He twists to look out over the city instead of at Sam. "I- Looking at him-"

"The memories?" Sam knows he doesn't have to ask. He can see it in the set of Bucky's shoulders. This is what he's used to dealing with. The fear and stress of seeing things, of living through things that others can't understand. Bucky and Steve share a lot and it's dragging on Bucky that Steve no longer has those memories.

"Guess this is what he felt like when he first saw me."

"At least he hasn't tried to kill you."

Bucky laughs, looking as if it surprises even him. He holds up his beer for Sam to clink against. "Very true. Gotta take the good things wherever you get them." He falls silent again and Sam doesn't push. "He likes you."

"Course he does, What's not to like?" Sam smiles and Bucky smiles back but they both know they're faking. "You think it'll get fixed?" He asks, for the first time voicing out loud something close to the fear that he won't ever get the Steve he knew back. Bucky doesn't look him in the eye but at least doesn't try to lie or force an answer. "If you want to talk. I'm here."

Bucky nods. "Same."

Steve interrupts them before he can say anything else. His eyes narrow when he sees the beer bottles but instead of saying a word just takes Sam's. "I was hoping to get art supplies. Need something to do," he says quickly.

"I'll take you," Bucky volunteers, quickly finishing the rest of the drink and getting to his feet.

"I don't need an escort to go around the block-"

"I need to stretch my legs." He cuffs Steve's arm lightly. "Not everything is about you, jerk." They continue bickering as they head into the house, leaving Sam alone. He stares out over the city and tries not to think _what if_.

-

"Sam! Sam!"

He groans as someone insists on shaking him awake.

"Come on Sam." They've changed tactics, and there's hot breath on his neck and then the brush of lips. He jerks away, almost falling out of bed but he's awake now, eyes wide open. Steve grins down at him. His Steve, all six plus feet, kneeling on the edge of the bed.

"Oh god." He reaches out slowly, half sure he's still dreaming but Steve catches his wrist and pulls so Sam rolls into him. They end up tangled together, chest to chest. "Fuck Steve," he groans. "Half convinced I'd have snotty nosed you for the rest of my life."

Steve nips at his lower lip, drawing him into a kiss which Sam returns eagerly. "I wasn't snotty nosed," Steve protests when he pulls back. Sam rolls his eyes and kisses him again. He can't stop running his fingers over Steve's chest, feeling the shift and pull of muscles under smooth skin. He works a hand into Steve's boxers.

"Missed you," he murmurs against Steve's lips, licking at his lower lip. Steve rocks into his hand, eyes falling half shut.

"If this is the first thing you think to do when you've missed me, I should go away more often." He smirks up at Sam so he has to lean down and kiss it away. It gets it through Steve's head to start getting involved and his hands are quickly on Sam, nails digging into skin to pull him down so Sam can use his thigh for friction.

It's not pretty or clean, it probably isn't even romantic but Sam is so desperate to have his Steve back he doesn't care. He moans Steve's name when he comes and he can hear the echoes of his name on Steve's lips moments later. He rolls after a moment to peel his boxers off but doesn't make a move to get out of bed. Steve rolls with him, resting his head on Sam's chest. "So any idea how you're back to normal?"

"No, I guess it wore off. Or some magic thing happened elsewhere." Steve shrugs, obviously not caring how, just that he is.

Sam doesn't feel as ready to take it on face value but Steve is solid and real to the touch. "If I'm fucking dreaming-"

"You're not. Or we both are. Figure it out in a bit." His arm rests on Sam's stomach, not letting him get up. "Thank you. For looking out for me."

He starts to sit up, wanting to see Steve's face. "You remember?" He's not sure if he wants Steve to remember the past week or not. If it would just be easier to move on, pretend it hadn't happened. Let everything go back to normal.

"Trying to seduce you by sprawling naked in your bed? Yea I remember." His blush creeps down his neck and chest. He sits up, folding his legs underneath him and looking down at Sam. "If you want to ask anything…"

"I want to. But only when you're ready." Sam reaches out, just needing to touch. Steve smiles in relief and leans back down to kiss Sam again, different from before now that the desperation is gone. Sam feels himself finally relax and Steve melts back down against him, over six feet all curled up around him.

"We should let others know," Steve says softly, but makes no effort to get up and off of Sam and Sam makes no effort to let go of him. "Did we really have sex before actually telling anyone?" 

He doesn't even bother sitting up, just grins smugly, knowing Steve is looking. "As if you can blame me."


End file.
